Chapter 4
It had taken Hermione two calming draughts before she was able to force herself through the floo into Diagon Alley. Narcissa had been polite and almost kind at dinner the previous evening, but she was not prepared to spend the day with Pansy Parkinson. As ridiculous as it felt to be afraid of her childhood bully after fighting in a war, Hermione had been hit with a wave of panic so strongly when she was about to leave, she’d had to sit down on the floor of Grimmauld Place until her breathing had evened out enough to summon a potion. When she felt the start of a second panic attack, she’d summoned a second potion, downed it in one gulp, and jumped into the green flames before she could change her mind again.
Now she was sitting at a tiny table in the new café that had recently opened as part of the Wizarding Reestablishment Initiative. It was impressive how quickly the area had been rebuilt. There were still some empty shops that stood as a dark reminder of the past year. Ollivander’s was boarded up, no one had yet purchased the building, and the wand maker didn’t have an heir to take over once he had passed, unable to recover after his imprisonment in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had reopened less than week after Fred’s funeral. George had thrown himself back into the business to deal with his grief.
There were some new additions to the alley as well. Rosier’s, a high-end fashion boutique, had opened almost immediately after the rebuilding efforts had begun. Apparently, the remaining members of the Rosier family were trying to rebuild the family reputation in Great Britain. They were well known for creating beautiful clothing for both witches and wizards in France for generations.
An exclusive restaurant had also opened near the entrance to Knockturn Alley, which the Ministry was working hard to gentrify. Hermione had heard that they catered to Pureblood society discreetly barring entry for anyone that wasn’t deemed ‘fit’.
“Granger.”
Hermione was snapped from her reverie by the sound of Pansy Parkinson’s voice. The witch was standing next to the table, a look of visible distaste on her face. Her dark hair hung in a shining, straight curtain down her back with thick bangs cut straight across her forehead. They contrasted with the delicate features of her face in a way that perfectly suited the witch. Her lips were painted a brilliant cherry red which complimented her porcelain skin perfectly.
“Hello Pansy.” Hermione gestured to the seat across from her.
“Look, I know we didn’t get along at Hogwarts, but that was then. What you did for Draco, well, I wouldn’t have expected it of you, he certainly hadn’t earned it from you. I suggest we start fresh and just know that anything I say now is only said to help you.”
Pansy finished her rant with a satisfied nod before she began eyeing Hermione up from across the table. The longer she looked at Hermione, the more severe her expression became.
“Do you know ANY glamour charms, Granger?” she finally asked, the exasperation clear in her tone.
“Um, well, I never really bothered with them. I didn’t care when I was younger, and by the time fifth year rolled around, I was kind of busy focusing on what I needed to learn to defeat a dark wizard. Glamour charms weren’t a priority.”
“How you look matters. Regardless of what you think, it’s a fact.” Hermione rolled her eyes at the seriousness in Pansy’s tone. “People are more inclined to listen to someone who is put together visually.”
Pansy pulled her wand from her purse and pointed it at Hermione’s head, wordlessly casting a charm on her hair. The frizz was immediately tamed, and her curls were styled into a soft cascade of ringlets down her back. The raven-haired witch gave a nod of approval and returned her wand to her purse.
Narcissa chose that moment to arrive, and both women stood to greet her. Pansy placed a chaste kiss on each of the older woman’s cheeks while holding her hands delicately. Narcissa then turned to Hermione, her eyes landing on her recently spelled hair.
“Very nice. That suits her and keeps her recognizable.”
Hermione fought the urge to make a snarky comment about how she was standing right here and instead let the two women discuss styling choices and which stores would be best to start with.
“Rosier’s has quite a few pieces that work muggle fashion into Wizarding fashion. I think that works best, otherwise it will just look too forced.” Pansy was now eyeing Hermione’s muggle jeans and knit jumper. “Regardless, it will still be quite a jump from whatever this is.”
***
Hermione was certain that she’d tried on every article of clothing that had been made in the last decade. There was a slowly growing rack of skirts, blouses, pants, robes, and dresses next to Narcissa and Pansy was still reciting an endless list of demands to the poor shopkeeper who had worked up a sweat running back and forth trying to accommodate the endless requests.
“I think we can move onto intimate wear now.” She heard Pansy say from the other side of the curtain as she was stepping out of a tight red strapless dress that she was relieved to hear didn’t suit the style they wanted.
“What?!” Hermione poked her head around the curtain and glared at the black-haired witch in front of her. “I do not need new underwear.”
Pansy pretended not to hear her and to Hermione’s horror turned to Narcissa and began discussing what types of intimates she thought would look best with Hermione’s golden complexion.
Before she’d managed to pull her jeans back on, the shopkeeper was back. She waved her wand, and a measuring tape began whizzing around her body as the frazzled shopkeeper eyed her legs, stomach and arms. Hermione let out a surprised gasp when the woman reached over and pushed her chest up.
“I think we should accentuate her chest, it’s quite nice.” She called to Pansy, before she and her measuring tape disappeared around the curtain again.
“Can I get dressed now?” Hermione called. She had moved beyond humiliation at this point and just wanted to go home, take a hot bath, and have a cup of tea.
Her question was answered when Pansy came bustling into the changing room with an armful of silk and lace. She flicked her wand, vanishing Hermione’s cotton undergarments and held out a piece of emerald green lace that looked far too small to cover any significant part of Hermione’s body. She took it gently between two fingers.
“Merlin, Granger, it’s a thong. Put it on and I’ll help you get into the bustier. The house elves can help you whenever you want to wear it, or you can spell it on.” Pansy rolled her eyes and stood holding a larger piece of green lace and ribbons.
“I really would rather be facing Voldemort right now. Just so we are clear.” Hermione grumbled as Pansy adjusted the bustier and hooked the back, so it tightened against her body.
***
It was with immense relief that Hermione finally arrived back at Grimmauld Place. Narcissa had her new wardrobe, including far more intimate wear than she’d expected, sent back to the Manor.
With a heavy sigh, she dropped her aching body onto the closest armchair and closed her eyes. She was just beginning to drift off when she heard the whoosh of the floo activating.
“Ms. Granger, pardon the intrusion.”
Hermione’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Narcissa’s cool voice. She clumsily pulled herself into a sitting position and straightened her sweater self consciously.
“Er…is something wrong?”
The Malfoy matriarch was looking curiously around the room, her eyes gaze stopping momentarily on each of the photos of Harry, Hermione, Teddy, and Ron that were scattered around the parlour.
“I thought perhaps I would have my house elf bring your things back to the manor tonight. I’ve arranged for you to stay in the guest room closest to Draco. Hopefully it will be enough to ease your shared discomfort.”
Hermione frowned. She had no intention of staying at Malfoy Manor until it was absolutely necessary. She certainly hadn’t expected Narcissa to prepare her a room.
“I assumed I would stay here.”
Narcissa raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow but said nothing. The two women silently stared at one another. Hermione couldn’t help but fidget. Her skin felt too hot, and she could feel her magic vibrating in her limbs. She’d felt like this all day, but with the hustle and bustle of shopping, it had been easier to ignore.
“My research suggests that with your magic bonded, too much distance for any extended period is uncomfortable. I would prefer that Draco not spend the entire evening fidgeting. I have been assured that once your bond is…completed, it won’t be quite as uncomfortable.”
She shot a pointed gaze toward Hermione’s hands, which she had been wringing in a desperate attempt to stop the tingling sensation. An image of Draco, sullen and wraithlike, sipping at broth came unbidden to her mind and Hermione had a pang of sympathy. She would have been more than willing to suffer through the night herself but being responsible for his suffering crumbled her resolve.
“Fine. I don’t need any help; I’ll just pack a few things until I can make arrangements.” Hermione pulled out her wand to send a patronus letting Harry know where she had gone, before heading to her room to grab her beaded bag.
***
The guest room Narcissa had prepared turned out to be directly across the hall from Draco’s bedroom. When she’d stepped inside, she had taken an involuntary gasp. The walls were painted a soft blue. Ornate white bookshelves covered one entire wall. There were two comfortable looking chairs upholstered in a deep royal blue on either side of a small round glass end table, placed in front of a large hearth. A huge four poster bed sat in the centre of the room. The bedding was the same royal blue as the armchairs, and there was an assortment of plush pillows at the head. A door on the far side of the room led to a walk-in closet and ensuite bathroom.
Hermione couldn’t help but be impressed. She wandered over to the bookshelf and skimmed the titles. Surprisingly, they contained a mix of wizarding and muggle books. She pulled an interesting looking book on ancient runes from the shelf and began flipping through the pages.
A ‘pop’ announced the arrival of Buggle.
“Mistress Hermione, dinner is served.” He said with a low bow, before holding his hand out to escort her to the dining room.
“Thank you, Buggle.” Hermione placed the book on the glass table and followed the elf out of the room. She cast a furtive glance in the direction of Malfoy’s bedroom door, wondering if he had been in there when she’d arrive.
“Buggle, do you know how Mal-Draco is feeling since he’s been home?”
“Master Draco has not been himself in a very long time. He is much too thin, and he speaks very little. Buggle is worried for Master Draco, but now that Mistress Hermione is here, Master Draco will be happy.”
The elf smiled up at Hermione and she gave an uncertain smile in return. She highly doubted her presence would make Malfoy any happier but figured it best not to say anything.
They arrived in what was definitely a different dining room, and Hermione stopped walking suddenly at the sight that greeted her. Sitting at the large dining table, wine glass in hand, was Pansy Parkinson. Narcissa was seated across from Pansy, and the two women were having a quiet discussion. There was no sign of Malfoy, but two additional places were set, so Hermione figured he would be joining them shortly.
“Seriously Granger, you didn’t change for dinner?” Pansy pursed her lips while eyeing Hermione’s muggle jeans and sweater, the same ones she had been wearing when they’d went shopping earlier in the day.
“Did you not see your new wardrobe was already organized in your closet?” Narcissa looked as though Hermione had arrived with owl droppings covering her body.
Before Hermione could answer, Pansy had stood and grabbed her elbow in a grip much stronger than the petite witch looked capable of and practically dragged Hermione back the way she’d just come.
Once they were back in the guest room, Pansy disappeared into the closet.
“Get undressed and splash some cold water on your face. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
Hermione dutifully stripped down to her cotton underwear and bra and padded softly in the bathroom. A glance in the mirror told her that Pansy’s assessment was correct. She had deep circles under her eyes and her skin looked dull. The ringlets Pansy had spelled earlier had turned into a mess of frizz.
When she returned to the bedroom, Pansy had laid a simple navy-blue dress on the bed. There were matching undergarments with it and a pair of nude ballet flats were on the floor beside the bed. She changed into the clothes quickly.
“You need to practice the spell to manage that nest you call hair.” Pansy quickly showed her the wand motion and had Hermione cast the charm herself. It wasn’t quite as tidy as Pansy’s curls had been, but the result was a marked improvement.
Pansy cast a few quick glamours on Hermione’s face and then stepped back to admire her work. When her gaze landed on Hermione’s forearm, her face blanched.
“I’m sorry! I forgot to glamour it when I was dressing.” Hermione quickly cast the only glamour spell she had perfected, and the angry red scars disappeared from view.
Pansy’s eyes stayed glued to the spot where Bellatrix’s handiwork had been.
“I’m sorry.” The words were barely more than a whisper. Before Hermione could answer, Pansy turned and rushed from the room.